(I went through a long period of self-harming when I was younger. I have scars and it took me a long time to get the confidence to wear short sleeves. Unfortunately, I was working as a cashier that summer, and the way a lot of people treated me didn’t exactly make me feel like I had made the right decision. Here are just a few examples:)

Customer:*eyeing my arms* “What did you get into?”

Me: “Nothing.”

Customer: “NOTHING?!” *throws up hands and storms out the door*

—

Customer: *grabs me by the wrist* What the hell happened to you? You look like you got hit by a weed whacker!

—

Customer: What happened to you?

Me: I got attacked by a bear.

Customer: No, you didn’t. What was it really?

Me: What if I said I did this to myself?

Customer: THAT’S NOT FUNNY. DON’T JOKE ABOUT THAT.

—

Customer: *without warning, runs her finger down my arm as I’m ringing her up* Were you a cutter?

—

(And finally–)

Customer: I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me, but I can see that you used to hurt yourself, and I just want to let you know that no matter how bad things get and how alone you feel, you’re always loved. Always, no matter what. Sorry if I’m out of line.

(It makes me a little sad that I have so many awful stories, and that one woman is, to this day, the customer who’s ever said anything like that to me.)

(I’m alone in the shop. Most customers are polite and understand I can only serve one customer at a time. Every so often, someone will have a simple question that I can answer while helping someone else. That’s not a problem. This time, however, keep in mind this whole conversation with [Customer #2] happens while I’m trying to assist [Customer #1].)

Customer #1: Could I have these flowers wrapped, please?

Me: “Absolutely. Would you like—“

Customer #2: “Excuse me, could I just ask a question?”

Me: “Sure. What do you need?”

Customer #2: “Why are these flowers here $4.99 and those flowers over there are $2.99? What’s the difference?”

Me: “It’s the same kind of flower, but the marked-down ones are a little older, so we discounted them.” *to [Customer #1]* “Ma’am, would you like me to put—“

Customer #2: “Oh, so they’re OLDER. I should have known.” *indicating more flowers on the display, which is prominently labeled with signs that say “$4.99″* “Are these flowers $4.99, too?”

Me: “Yes, they are.”

Customer #2:*poking at more flowers on the same display* “What about these?”

Me: “Yes, all the flowers on that display are $4.99.” *to [Customer #1]* “Here you go. If you just step over to the register—“

Customer #2: “So they’re all $4.99?”

Me: “On that display, yes.”

Customer #2: “Why are your carnations on sale?”

Me: “Because we got a huge shipment of them and we’re trying to sell them while they’re still fresh, so you get a deal.”

Customer #2: “Hmph! Is that so?”

Me: “…Yes.”

Customer #2: “Hmm.” *eyes carnations suspiciously*

(I really wanted to say, “If I tell you something’s wrong with them like you seem determined to believe, will you leave me alone?”)

(I’m a Certified Pharmacy Technician at a midwest grocery and pharmacy chain. I’m not exaggerating when I say I get far too many of these calls EVERY DAY.)

Me:*answers phone with usual friendly attitude* “This is [My Name] at [Pharmacy]; how can I help you?”

Customer: “I need a refill on my prescriptions.”

Me:*pulls up profile after asking for name and birthdate* “Okay, which ones did you need refilled today?”

Customer: “Oh… I don’t know the names.” *describing various pills*

Me:*sighs and facepalms* “Right, let me get you on with the pharmacist.”

(Long story short, folks: you, as the customer, are personally responsible for knowing exactly what goes into your body and what prescriptions need to be refilled. WE DON’T HAVE ALL DRUGS MEMORIZED JUST BY HOW THEY APPEAR IN OUR HEADS!)

(I work at a women’s plus-size clothing store, and I am very energetic because I like my job and enjoy helping people. People have described me as cheerleader-like, and also very sweet, which is incredibly kind of them! One day I’m checking out a woman and her husband, and I’m dancing slightly to the music we have playing in the store, so I say a little joke I’ve said hundreds of times before.)

Me:*while ringing them up* “And you get a free dance with every purchase!”

Husband: “Oh? So where’s the pole?”

(The wife gasps, and I stop dancing and stare at him, flabbergasted that he would make such a sexual joke about me. He suddenly looks very sheepish.)

(I work in the floral department at a grocery store. We have a lady who comes in often enough that we recognize her. She always dresses entirely in white and silver, and wears extremely heavy makeup: a thick layer of foundation that doesn’t match her skin tone, usually white or silver eyeshadow, and very pale, pink lipstick that is rarely, if ever, applied in the lines of her actual lips. She’s always snobby and picky about her flowers. The chain where I work has a fuel-saver program. You get a card that the cashier scans at the checkout, and for some items, you get a certain number of cents off your gas per gallon at the pump if you go to the gas station chain we partner with. It’s very popular and a lot of people participate.)

Customer: “Are these flowers the best? Because I want to make sure I get the best.”

Me: “Those are really nice flowers, for sure.”

Customer: “But are they the best? I have to have the best.”

Me: “Um… Yes, they’re the best.”

Customer: “Oh, wonderful. Just wonderful.”

(I ring her up.)

Me: “Do you have a fuel-saver card you’d like to use?”

Customer: “Oh, for crying out loud! No!”

Me: “I’m sorry, we have to ask—”

Customer: “No! I don’t use those! Who uses those?”

Me: “Um, a lot of people, ma’am. I have one.”

Customer: “Well! I don’t even put my own gas in my car! What would I want with that?”